


Alone With You

by LittleLynn



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Vaguely Victorian, Vampire! Qui-Gon, dubious consent at the beginning for blood drinking not smut, enthusiastic smutty consent, pampered little lord Obi-Wan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25251622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleLynn/pseuds/LittleLynn
Summary: Obi-Wan, his name was, heir to the Kenobi titles and fortune, rich and pampered and reminding Qui-Gon every day of a beautiful bird trapped in a gilded cage. Watching him across the crowded streets and rooms of society, Qui-Gon knew he would be magnificent if he was set free, already outshining all those around him, without even trying. It was wrong of Qui-Gon to sully him, he knew it was; but he still went back, over and over again.
Relationships: Qui-Gon Jinn/Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 11
Kudos: 143





	Alone With You

**Author's Note:**

> Boom, delivered as promised. I hope y'all like it <3 
> 
> Title stolen from Hozier lyrics because he's my go to guy when it's 1am and I can't think of a title

He used to be stronger than this, he knew, not even that long ago. He used to be able to force himself away from any pale neck, no matter how hungry he grew, no matter how starved. He never used to drink from the same person more than once, each taste increased his chances of being noticed, of being found and hunted, of becoming attached. 

Now he went barely two days before returning to him, addicted to his taste, the sweet scent of his blood, the softness of his skin. 

Obi-Wan, his name was, heir to the Kenobi titles and fortune, rich and pampered and reminding Qui-Gon every day of a beautiful bird trapped in a gilded cage. Watching him across the crowded streets and rooms of society, Qui-Gon knew he would be magnificent if he was set free, already outshining all those around him, without even trying. It was wrong of Qui-Gon to sully him, he knew it was; but he still went back, over and over again. 

He knew the steps from his small home to Obi-Wan’s window so well that he wouldn’t even need to open his eyes to do it. Slipping seamlessly from shadow to shadow, the way he was made to do; a predator in the night. He always tried to convince himself to stop along the way, to feed from some drunkard in an alley who had no hope of remembering, even without Qui-Gon’s tricks. But he never did, not anymore, not since the first time.

It had almost been an accident the first time, though Qui-Gon couldn’t fool himself as easily as others, as late one night Obi-Wan - Lord Kenobi, he shouldn’t allow himself to think in familiarities when to Kenobi, he was a stranger still - had been wandering the streets alone. His dress had told Qui-Gon that this was no peasant who would wave away a bout of amnesia and anemia to press on through the day, this was a lord. And he knew exactly which one. 

Those red lips were difficult to forget, the green eyes and unblemished skin; even if he hadn’t been the monster he was, he would have found such a face hard to resist. Seeing him about town, riding in his carriages, laughing with his friends, Qui-gon had wanted him. So when he saw him, stumbling around in the night, he had let himself be weak. 

He had cornered Kenobi in a dark alleyway, under the guise of showing him the way the younger man had let him get close, and when Qui-Gon had pressed him up against the wall instead, with the intention of taking a  _ bite _ , the little lord had moan - though not from fear - and pressed against his body. Qui-Gon had been lost, in that moment, out of control of himself, biting down on Kenobi’s sweet neck and drowning not only in the overwhelming taste of him, but at the whine of pleasure that had dripped from his mouth.

He had stopped when Kenobi went limp against him, so caught up in his own pleasure, in the feel of a partner who was enjoying themselves, not scared for their life, that he almost took too much. Panicked he had cleaned the wound, his saliva almost able to heal his bite completely in a matter of moments, and then snatched away Kenobi’s memories, depositing him back at his home lest some other predator spot him, unconscious and vulnerable in the alleyway. 

He had been lost, from then. Hyper aware, all of a sudden, of Kenobi’s every movement. He could hear his heartbeat from across the town, knew when he was scared, when he was content, when he was  _ excited _ . 

Since then, it had been the same pattern every few days. Qui-gon would tell himself he was never going to do it again, that the most recent time was the last; always easier to think with his appetite sated, with Kenobi so fresh in his memory. But then a day would pass, maybe two in his stronger bouts, and he would hear it again, the  _ thump thump thump  _ of Kenobi’s pulse. An undercurrent in Qui-Gon’s ears, following no matter where he went in the town, hounding his every step until he ended up back here, on the edges of the Kenobi estate, picking a path across the gardens. 

He knew well which balcony adjoined with Kenobi’s bed chamber by now, overhanging a rose garden, of all things. Qui-Gon waited in the shadows of the garden until he heard the sounds of Kenobi’s breathing evened out and deepened, signalling the deep sleep he often fell into. Qui-Gon waited a few more moments, he always did, a few moments more, right on the cusp, convincing himself that he could walk away, that he didn’t need to be this monster, that he could leave this sweet thing be. 

And then he would climb the vines on the wall, climb over the marble balcony railing, and ease open the door. Kenobi never locked it, he left it open to feel the fresh air while he slept, his distaste for the clammy summers well known about town, his penchant for linen shirts making the townsfolk gossip. Qui-Gon knew how the door creaked if he opened it too slowly, but how Kenobi would stir if he opened it too swiftly, the sudden wash of cool air making him murmur sleepily.

Kenobi was without his nightshirt this evening, a concession to the heat, and he was restless in his sleep, though not distressed, mumbling sleepily and shifting around in the sheets. He looked so soft like this, expression slack, and Qui-Gon felt like a monster again, but it didn’t stop him approaching the bed, running his fingers through Kenobi’s mussed up hair, rubbing against the pillow. 

Kenobi nuzzled into the touch as he always did, a sigh of contentment, his survival instincts poor, Qui-Gon able to get him to bare his neck with little more than a nudge, stroking a finger under Kenobi’s chin. He ran his lips along Kenobi’s neck until he could feel the rhythmic beat of Obi-Wan’s - always Obi-Wan in these moments - artery under his lips, the almost imperceptible jump of his delicate skin there on every beat. 

There was a faint bruise on Obi-Wan’s neck, Qui-Gon had lost count of the number of times he had bitten him now, and his saliva could only do so much. The guilt tried to reach him, but it was hard to hear in these moments, and with a helpless groan, Qui-Gon sunk his elongated canines into Obi-Wan’s neck. 

Obi-Wan’s reaction was instant, it always was, the way he tensed for just a second before letting out a desperate moan, the way his arms came up subconsciously around Qui-Gon and held him close, the way Obi-Wan attempted to rub himself against Qui-Gon as he drank in long, deep gulps, Obi-Wan’s arousal sweetening his blood, flooding Qui-Gon’s mouth with bliss. 

As Obi-Wan gasped and writhed up against him, Qui-Gon wondered what it was he dreamt of in these moments, and managed to grow jealous of a phantom.

This was one of the ways he justified the way he came back again and again; wasn’t it better, to drink from someone who enjoyed it, no matter how unconsciously, than someone panicked and scared?

All too soon, Qui-Gon knew he had to pull away, drinking from Obi-Wan so often was risky enough even when he only took enough for the barest hint of satisfaction. Though he knew he could drink from Obi-Wan every day and never be truly sated. 

Pulling away was hardest, even after Qui-Gon had forced his teeth to retract and kissed against the wound he had left until it started to heal, when he tried to truly move away, Obi-Wan whimpered, attempted to hold him close, muttered something unintelligible in his stupor; lightheadedness added to his exhaustion. Qui-gon never snatched the memories when Obi-Wan was sleeping, doing it too often could cause problems, and Qui-Gon never wanted to hurt Obi-Wan, not beyond what he couldn’t resist, the small bruises on his neck - and he knew Obi-Wan would attribute it to a dream anyway, because adults did not believe in monsters anymore. 

Qui-Gon slipped free of Obi-Wan’s grasp before he could wake enough to understand that his fingers were closing on something real, not imagined, and stole away back into the night. 

Always only a few steps from the gardens, the guilt hit Qui-Gon. Drinking from Obi-Wan - no,  _ Kenobi _ \- so often, when he couldn’t ensure that he was eating and drinking well enough to compensate during the day was careless of him - and careless with Obi-Wan’s health, not his own. And the more he visited, the more likely he was to get caught, the more likely a concerned doctor was to grow worried about the lingering bruises on Obi-Wan’s otherwise creamy neck. 

It had been many years since he was foolish enough to let himself be revealed - by someone with enough social clout to be listened to - and chased out of a town. He liked it here - or perhaps, he merely liked Kenobi - and he didn’t want to leave. And his own kind were never happy about towns they could no longer visits, that would have to be left clear for years until the stories became just that again: stories. 

But still, Qui-Gon persisted, unable to move away, even when he was briefly satisfied, even with his lingering guilt. He wondered how Kenobi would react if he knew what was happening to him, with disgust for sure, but would it be combined with fear, or violence; Qui-Gon had no way of knowing. 

It was jarring, when one late afternoon, the sky growing blissfully dark early in the day through the winter months, Qui-Gon bumped into the object of his infatuation in the street. He had known where Kenobi was, of course, hyper aware of his location at all times - the feral part of Qui-Gon that had claimed the little lord for himself roaring with vigilance. But Kenobi was careful, and far from clumsy, so he expected him to pass smoothly by Qui-Gon, when they passed each other in the street - and dangerous game Qui-Gon played sometimes, to get the scent of Kenobi flooded back in his senses, to try and force himself to go an extra night without visiting. 

But this time, Kenobi’s shoulder knocked into his, and his surprise was so great that he dropped the books he was carrying. 

“Goodness I am so sorry,” Kenobi hurried to say, even as the other lords and ladies with him were throwing accusations at Qui-Gon, but he ignored them, consumed by Kenobi’s attention on him. “I should have looked where I was going.”

“It is no matter, my lord, the ground is blissfully dry.”

“Damn, no opportunity to see you again then, when I bring you replacements,” Kenobi shocked him with his cheek - he had heard it directed at others of course, but he had never expected to be a recipient. 

“Would you require such an excuse?” Qui-Gon asked, collecting himself quickly, Kenobi smiled a coy smile at him as his father scolded him with a bleating voice, as if his son were still a whelp, instead of a fully grown man. He apologised and waved his retinue on, promising to catch up. 

“Sorry, you just seem so familiar. I forget that we haven’t had a formal introduction.”

“How scandalous of us,” Qui-Gon murmured, attempting not to lose himself to panic, at the idea Kenobi might remember him. 

“Quite. Well, to avoid the scandal next time, my name is Obi-Wan, and you are…?”

“Qui-Gon Jinn,” Qui-Gon took the hand offered to him, warm and soft, trying not to fixate on the pulse he could feel. It had only been two days. 

“Well, a pleasure to meet you, Qui-Gon. Your hands are very cold, you might want to invest in gloves before the winter proper gets here,” Obi-Wan - for he was allowed to be Obi-Wan now, a terrifying and intoxicating idea - suggested, before continuing with an impish smile. “Or I could warm them up for you.”

“You should be careful, saying such things,” Qui-Gon replied, checking, for Obi-Wan’s sake, that no one was close enough to have heard, that no one needed a memory snatched away.

“Probably,” Obi-Wan agreed, biting at his lip, making it even redder than it always was, almost obscene in contrast to his skin. 

“Well, if you would excuse me, lord Kenobi, I have some business to attend to,” Qui-Gon lied, ignoring Obi-Wan’s crestfallen expression, needing to get away before he snatched Obi-Wan off the street for anyone to see.

“It’s Obi-Wan, for you, Mr. Jinn,” Obi-Wan called after him, words getting stolen by the wind before prying ears might here. 

“Then it is Qui-Gon, as well,” he replied, disappearing back towards his home. 

It was no surprise to him, when that very evening he found himself in the rose garden beneath Obi-Wan’s balcony, waiting for him to fall asleep, on edge from their meeting during the day, even though it anything, it should have had him fleeing the town. Without conscious thought, Qui-Gon plucked a rose from the garden, and left it on Obi-Wan’s vanity. It was such a strange - such a reckless - think for him to do, that by the time he was stealing away into the night, the taste of Obi-Wan thick on his lips, the ghost of his hands still gripping Qui-Gon’s back, that he almost forgot he had done it. 

Perhaps he had made his own bed, then, when he returned three nights later, to find Obi-Wan lying in bed, clutching the rose. He eased his way inside as he always did, but before he could make it across the room he froze, as Obi-Wan sat up in his bed, having only been feigning sleep, breath hitching when he saw Qui-Gon, looming at the end of his bed. It took Qui-Gon a moment to realise that it wasn’t fear, the realisation the only thing that had him hesitate from fleeing the scene. 

“I do know you. I thought I was dreaming, or perhaps going insane,” Obi-Wan said, the sheets pooling around his lap, wearing nothing but small clothes on this night. When Qui-gon didn’t speak, still frozen to the spot, he continued. “How long have you been visiting me?”

“Months,” Qui-Gon admitted, wondering when Obi-Wan would call for help. 

“Hmm that is when my dreams became passionate. When I developed these bruises on my neck. Do you know anything about those?”

“I should go. I never should have been here, I am sorry, Obi-Wan, I am sorry.”

“What for?”

“I know what I have been doing.”

“I don’t. I know only that you steal into my room in the night, that my dreams turn to sweet syrup, that I remember little, and nothing clearly the next morning.”

“You know that your neck is bruised, that you feel lightheaded. I should never have come.”

“But you do, why? And what do you do to me?”

“Nothing you would want. Because I cannot resist you, you are the apple of my Eden.”

“I want it.”

“You don’t even know what I do.”

“And yet I know that I want it. Tell me,” Obi-Wan said, crawling forward on the bed and reaching out a hand, tugging a powerless Qui-Gon towards him. “Show me, if you cannot tell me,” Obi-Wan breathed, before baring his neck, that bruised, delicate stretch of skin. 

“I can’t - ”

“I’m giving you permission. Wouldn't you rather I was awake? Please Qui-Gon, I want it, show me if you do to me at night, what a spectre of yourself does to me in my dreams,” Obi-Wan pleaded gently, and Qui-Gon groaned, losing what little control he had left and sinking his teeth into Obi-Wan’s soft neck. 

It was different this time, visceral. Obi-Wan tensed and moaned as he always did, but his moan was louder, filled with intent, and a hand sunk into Qui-Gon’s hair and held him close to his neck. 

“Oh, oh god,” Obi-Wan moaned, collapsing back into his pillows but dragging Qui-Gon with him as he pulled consuming gulps of blood from Obi-Wan’s neck, caging the little lord below him. He felt Obi-Wan press his cock, hard and obscene in his smallclothes, against Qui-gon stomach, but he dared not touch him, not break this spell, everything would only be as Obi-Wan wanted it, even as his own cock thickened in response, no longer held back by such iron control.

When Obi-Wan’s voice began to grow light and faint, his gasps turning to breathy whimpers, Qui-Gon forced himself to stop, even more difficult than usual as Obi-Wan moaned and writhed in complaint. 

“Shh Obi-Wan.”

“I didn’t want you to stop.”

“If I didn’t stop, I could hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you,” Qui-Gon said, kissing Obi-Wan’s fingers instead of letting them reach for him again.

“Stay with me.”

“That would be unwise,” Qui-Gon replied, not voicing that he feared Obi-Wan would come to his senses in the morning, even if Qui-Gon could deal with the memories caused from an unwanted intrusion. 

“But you’ll return to me.”

“In a day or two, if you still want me to.”

“Why would I not want you to?” obi-Wan asked, clearly still flooded with endorphins, rolled sleepily onto his front, head pillowed in the cushions as he lazily rutted his hips into his mattress, making Qui-Gon’s nostrils flare, making him dig his nails into his palm.

“The light of day often brings clarity, and changes heart,” Qui-Gon murmured. “Go to sleep, Obi-Wan. I promise to return, if you will still have me.” 

After draping the sheets over Obi-Wan’s waist, too hot for anything more, Qui-Gon slipped out the door, and tried to maker it back to his home before he as overwhelmed by what had happened. He felt as though he was the on in the dream, but he promised himself that if Obi-Wan woke the next morning repulsed, he would move on from this town, glad only that he had received what he had, and bearing no ill will towards Obi-Wan. 

The next day was quiet, free of the hunting party Qui-Gon half expected to storm the streets looking for him. And the day after, he received a letter, hand delivered, by someone who looked like he had scoured the entire town high and low, looking for either someone who knew him - few and far between - or someone fitting his general description.

_ I hope you will visit me again tonight, I have no changed my mind _

Obi-Wan’s script was neat and flowing, refined just like the rest of him, and Qui-Gon held the note close. He should burn it, incendiary writings were harder things for him to pull from the minds of the many that might have seen the Kenobi servant carrying it, he had no way of knowing how many people had seen the seal. And if his house ever were to be ransacked, even unsigned, such a letter could get Obi-Wan into trouble. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it, instead tucking the letter somewhere safe, somewhere he convinced himself no one would find it, even if they tore his home apart. 

He returned to Obi-Wan that night, and something new bloomed between them. After he had drank his fill and Obi-Wan was warm and relaxed beside him - despite the ridginess of his cock each time - Obi-Wan asked him questions about what he was, how old he was, what had happened to him, every answer just seeming to fascinate the little lord more. He told Qui-Gon of his life also, how it lacked anything of substance, how he felt trapped and held back, just waiting for his father to present him with a girl to marry, who he could never make happy, and who would never be able to make him happy in return. 

He confessed one night that the only time he truly felt alive, was when Qui-Gon was with him. At first, he had wondered if it was the forbiddeness of what they did, the danger, that excited a response in Obi-Wan. If he simply craved a change from the banality of his life. But soon he felt guilt to have ever assumed his Obi-Wan would be so shallow. 

It was weeks after they had begun, and the temperature significantly cooled, when Qui-Gon arrived in Obi-Wan’s rooms to find him languishing naked on the bed, lying on his side, creating tantalising curves and slopes with his soft skin. After a pause, Qui-Gon slipped the balcony door shut, and raised an eyebrow.

“Are you too warm, little bird?” Qui-Gon asked, and Obi-Wan bit his lip, shaking his head at the suggestion. 

“No.”

“Pray tell me then, why have you decided to lay yourself out like such a treat?” Qui-Gon asked, sitting by his hip on the bed, leaning down to claim Obi-Wan’s lips in a kiss. The first time Obi-Wan had moved Qui-Gon’s lips from his neck to his mouth after he had finished feeding, Qui-Gon had moaned, so long since he had felt the simple but consuming pleasure of someone else's lips on his. Obi-Wan had sensed it, intuited it from Qui-Gon’s response of desperate enthusiasm, and had indulged him with kisses as much as he did with his blood

“I was hoping you might like a taste,” Obi-Wan replied, coy belying shyness, perhaps even anxiety, as if Qui-Gon would refuse him this, as if Obi-Wan hadn’t felt Qui-Gon’s answering hardness pressed against his hip every time he drank from his sweet neck.

“I believe I have a taste every time I am here,” Qui-Gon teased, moving his kisses to Obi-Wan’s jaw, his neck, before leaning back to eye the sight of him laid out naked again, more hungrily this time. 

“A different sort of taste.”

“Tell me what you want, Obi-Wan, I assure you I want it also. Do not fear rejection from me, you will never find it.”

“I want you to take me, Qui-Gon, I want you to fuck me here in my bed while you drink from me. I want you to own me, make me feel free,” Obi-Wan admitted, breathless and stealing the breath from Qui-Gon as well, whimpering when Qui-Gon laid a hand low on his bare stomach, the other on his hip. 

“Have you ever been with a man before, my love?” Qui-Gon asked, settling Obi-Wan back against the pillows as he slipped into the space between Obi-Wan;s legs, his lover blushing deeply as he spread himself. 

“I have never been with anyone,” Obi-Wan admitted. Qui-Gon had suspected as much, but the confirmation made him hot, made his cock reach its full hardness in his trousers, imagining being inside that virgin hole, untainted blood nectar on his lips at the same time. The thought alone was nearly intoxicating. 

“It is not so simple, with a man,” Qui-Gon said, pressing kissed to Obi-Wan’s chest, letting his tongue and sharp teeth tease at one of his nipples, pleased when Obi-Wan gasped lightly and the pebbled. 

“I know, I, ah. Here,” Obi-Wan said, embarrassed as he pressed a vial of oil into Qui-Gon’s hand, making Qui-Gon smile greedily down at his lover. “What are you doing?” Obi-Wan asked as Qui-Gon set the vial aside. 

“Hush, there is no need to rush. And you are nervous, i want to relax you,” Qui-Gon murmured, using his hands to spread Obi-Wan’s legs wider, feeling the softness of his thigh, finding the heavy thumb of his femoral artery, high on the inside, near his groin, made louder with his arousal. “You like it when I bite your neck?” Qui-Gon asked, knowing full well the answer, but enjoying Obi-Wan’s frantic nod. “Do you think you would like it, if I were to bite you here, instead?” Qui-Gon asked, letting his thumb trace the sensitive spot, so close to Obi-Wan’s cock, his hole, everywhere he wanted to feel. 

“Y-yes,” Obi-Wan said around a shiver.

Qui-Gon smiled at him, settling between Obi-Wan’s legs and licking the soft skin covering Obi-Wan’s artery. He didn’t bite him yet, laying kisses before moving his mouth across, making Obi-Wan jerk and gasp as he laid kissed on his cock, his premium, and then, a scandalised moan as Qui-Gon laid a chaste kiss over his hole.

“Is this okay?” Qui-Gon asked as he licked Obi-Wan gently there, kissing him again more openly this time, working at the tight muscle. 

“I never knew. I hadn’t even thought,” Obi-Wan started to babble, but his hips were rocking down in tiny movements. 

“Do you like it?” Qui-Gon asked, pressing the tip of his tongue at Obi-Wan’s rim, pleased when it was Obi-Wan’s own movements that had his tongue slip inside, pressing past the tight muscle, and crying out. 

“Oh,  _ oh _ , yes, please Qui-Gon,” Obi-Wan moaned, before throwing an arm over his mouth to muffle himself, lest he wake the house. 

Qui-Gon worked him slowly, they had all night, Obi-Wan could sleep away the morning if he needed, and Qui-Gon had no intention of rushing this. He lapped at Obi-Wan’s hole for long minutes, occasionally stroking his cock while Obi-Wan struggled to muffle his moans, his nails tearing one of the many spare pillows. Gradually, his lover’s hole loosened, growing used to the feeling of Qui-Gon’s tongue licking into him until he was taking him easily, Obi-Wan’s body covered with sweat as his chest heaved and his cock dripped precome onto his stomach. 

Qui-Gon nosed his back back to Obi-Wan’s thigh, sucking now at the skin covering his femoral artery as he slicked his fingers with the oil and slowly pressed two inside Obi-Wan, making him writhe and pant. But his reaction was spurred on, turned  _ wild _ , when Qui-Gon sunk his teeth into the inside of his thigh, the warmth of Obi-Wan’s blood flooding his mouth, washing over him in a huge wave of sensation; if Obi-Wan’s blood had been made sweet with arousal, then it was now on fire with passion and desire, the best thing that had ever touched Qui-Gon’s lips. So good, so overwhelming and additive to his senses, that for the first time he could remember, Qui-Gon didn;t envy the living; for they would never know this taste. 

Qui-Gon forced himself to drink slowly, lest he take to much in their passion, drinking in sluggish pulls from Obi-Wan’s thigh, concentrating more on the way his fingers moved inside of his lover, working him open on two, then three, and finally four fingers, as Qui-Gon drinking moved Obi-Wan into that relaxed state, his muscles opening up around him more easily. 

“No, no don’t stop,” Obi-Wan whined when Qui-Gon drew away from his leg, lapping over the wound carefully, before drawing up on his knees and reaching for the slick.

“Patience, my little lord,” Qui-Gon chided, stripping himself of his clothes, Obi-Wan’s eyes going wide as he took in the sight of Qui-Gon’s thick cock, hard and aching to be inside his lover. 

“Can I?” He asked, reaching out for the oil and stroking Qui-Gon with an inexperienced but greedy hand to make him slick, Qui-Gon groaning and thrusting his hips into Obi-Wan’s hand. “You’re so big,” Obi-Wan said, as if he couldn’t help the words, the ring of his fingers squeezing at the fat head of Qui-Gon’s cock. 

“I promise I will be gentle.”

“I know you will.”

“You need only say, if you want me to stop.”

“I know,” Obi-Wan replied, lying back in the pillows, still relaxed from the blood Qui-Gon had taken. 

“Would you like me to bite you again?” Qui-Gon asked, pressing the wet head of his cock against Obi-Wan’s stretched hole, pressing just enough to tease as he waited for Obi-Wan’s response, which came in the form of a little nod. 

Caging Obi-Wan beneath him, Qui-Gon pressed his teeth against Obi-Wan’s neck, breaking the skin at the same moment he pressed his cock inside, Obi-Wan tensing and relaxing moments later, as the unfamiliar stretch of a cock in his virgin hole was counteracted with the well known feeling of Qui-Gon’s teeth in his neck. He sunk into Obi-Wan with one slow push of his hip, drinking as slowly as he could manage, never having known pleasure like this in his life. It had been a long time since he had touched another, and he had never fed while claiming a lover before. He worried for a second, that he would lose control, but through it all he fixated on Obi-Wan’s pleasured sounds, the hitch of his breath as Qui-Gon fucked into him, the desperate way he muffled his moans and cries as he started thrusting his hips and drinking more deeply. 

Obi-Wan was almost impossibly tight around his cock, and the many sensations crashing into him left Qui-Gon closer to climax than he would have liked after only a few minutes of fucking himself inside his lover. But Obi-Wan;s nails were raking down his back, and his breath was reduce to short, whimpered out little pants as his cock dribbled precome between them, red with the need to come.

With a hand around Obi-Wan’s cock, Qui-Gon pounded into him harder, shifting them both up the bed until one of Obi-Wan;s hands was braced against the headboard, the other buried in Qui-gon’s long hair. Qui-Gon lifted one of Obi-Wan’s legs up under the knee, letting him get deeper inside him, changing the angle enough for his cock to slam into Obi-Wan’s prostate, hand squeezing his cock as Obi-Wan came with a sudden, barely concealed shout between them. 

His orgasm left his blood awash with his own pleasure, making Qui-Gon moan as much as the pulsing grip of his ass around his cock did, and he took one more long drag of Obi-Wan’s blood as he came, emptying himself inside his lover. 

Obi-Wan collapsed limp against the bedding, and Qui-Gon forced himself to listen over his own roaring heartbeat, the thump in his ears, for the sound of his heartbeat, relieved to find it strong, still jackrabbiting with the aftermath of pleasure. He wanted to lie beside his lover, but Obi-Wan needed some care, and Qui-Gon carefully licked over his wounds and cleaned his hole, despite Obi-Wan’s embarrassed squirming, before giving in to the urge to settle beside him and hold him. 

“Will you stay the night?” Obi-Wan asked, sleepily, head pillowed on Qui-Gon’s chest, arms clinging to his waste. 

“I will, but I will be force to leave, when I hear people stirring within the house.”

“Wake me, before you go. Please. I don’t like to wake up alone. Kiss me goodbye for the day and promise you’ll come back tomorrow,” Obi-Wan breathed, snuggling into the kissed Qui-Gon dropped to the top of his head. 

“Of course, my love,” Qui-Gon agreed, running his hands soothing through Obi-Wan’s hair, his exhausted lover falling asleep easily.

They settled into a new routine easily, one that involved sex, and talk of the future, of Obi-Wan leaving this place, and clandestine meets away from his cloying home, filled with its rules and taboos. They fell into a rhythm that was happy, dangerous, for the way it lulled them. 

Eventually, as with all things you became accustomed to, they became sloppy, forgetting to lock doors, keep voices low and listen for footsteps. And after a few more months of bliss between them, the door to Obi-Wan’s rooms opened while Qui-Gon’s teeth were in his neck, and a large hand was wrapped around his cock. 

Things happened so quickly after that, Qui-Gon struggled to remember the sequence with which they happened. The way he threw himself from Obi-Wan, as if that might help him. The words being spat from the lips of Obi-Wan’s father, none of them kind, not all of them directed solely at Qui-Gon. His failure to take the memories quickly enough, too many more people summoned by the noise until it spiralled out of his control. Obi-Wan trying to cover himself, crying as his father grabbed him roughly by the warm and dragged him from the bed, and something feral lighting up in Qui-Gon, as he realised that he could not leave Obi-Wan here. 

Striding across the room to pull his beloved from that horrible grip, breaking the hands and arms of the people who tried to stop him, who tried to keep Obi-Wan away from him, even as Obi-Wan cried and struggled to reach him. Obi-Wan curling into his chest, hiding his face from his seething and spitting family in shame, the palpable relief of Qui-Gon’s arms around him. 

Qui-Gon carried Obi-Wan to his house at an inhuman speed, hastily dressing them both in whatever he had, though it was all too big for his lover. The feeling of guilt spreading as he bundled Obi-Wan away from the place he had been raised, from his home and family. 

Not resting until the next night, in a village far away, where no horse nor man from the town they had fled would be able to reach them before the weeks end, even if they had some way to track Qui-Gon. Obi-Wan soothing him when he realised Qui-gon’s guilt, holding him close, saying he knew it would happen, that he was glad Qui-Gon had taken him with him, that there was nowhere he would rather be. 

They found yet another rhythm between them, on a small farms in little village, Qui-Gon admitted that he never wanted to lose Obi-Wan, and Obi-Wan assuring him that he never had to, and when the time was right - when Qui-Gon asked him properly - he would let him give Obi-Wan forever. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for rreeeeaaddiiiing <3


End file.
